


When The Heartache Ends

by dreamingoutloud



Series: Flawed-The Enjolras/Grantaire Song Fic Collection [4]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Break Up, Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Moving On, Rob Thomas, Slow Build, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 08:04:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4172193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingoutloud/pseuds/dreamingoutloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though he feels badly for Enjolras, Grantaire can't help being a little bit pleased when the man he's had feelings for forever deals with a major breakup.  By staying by his side and helping him through it, he proves just how good he could really be for him and wakes Enjolras up to a whole new idea of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When The Heartache Ends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elliebeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliebeth/gifts).



> Story number four in the Flawed series. This time it's to Rob Thomas' When the Heartache Ends.
> 
> "While the lovers and the lonely  
> Start to whisper all about me  
> And if I stand here silent  
> I almost start to feel you fading in  
> Telling me hold on  
> Cuz it's gonna be alright
> 
> Say you'll be with me  
> When the heartache ends"

“Are you okay?”

The face of the student leader actually looked quite pathetic at that moment.

Grantaire really didn’t know what to do about that. A part of him was cheering. He’d sort of desperately wanted Enjolras and Eponine to split up for quite a while. Secretly, of course, because he’d never publicly deny his friend happiness. But when you were in love with that friend, you also didn’t want that happiness to be with someone else. And Enjolras _had_ been happy. Incredibly. He’d beamed when she was around, he’d looked like the world had changed. His smile was almost radiant. She’d driven him, pushed his passion rather than challenged it the way Grantaire did. She had stood by his side at his speeches and rallies, playing the part of supporter every bit as much as lover.

And now it was over. And that man, that strong, passionate, fierce man, was nothing more than a ball of misery and pain. And Grantaire legitimately didn’t know what to do.

In front of the others, Enjolras attempted a brave face. Even Combeferre thought their friend was handling things well enough. Combeferre was more willing to bash her and insult her and make Enjolras think she was the scum of the Earth for leaving him the way she had.

But that wasn’t Grantaire. He’d known Enjolras the majority of his life. Even though they’d had their ups and downs and grown closer and then apart, he still knew the man better than most. He knew how afraid Enjolras was of being alone, now that he’d finally cracked and let someone in. He knew that he was fearful of his public image crumbling. Most people took his brave words for granted, but Grantaire knew those eyes. He should, he’d studied them long and hard. While the words he spoke meant little to him, the passion in those eyes meant everything, and he’d watched them, learned them, sketched them time after time. So while his words said one thing, his face said another, and Grantaire knew that.

So he knew that when Enjolras didn’t show up for classes two days in a row, something was wrong. And he went over, maybe possibly broke into his flat, and peeked in at his friend. His heart actually broke a little at what he was seeing. Curled up under the blankets like a sick child with a cold, Enjolras’ face was barely even showing. Merely the top of his head, his unruly hair the only thing truly visible. 

“Apollo...” he began, and then paused. Now wasn’t the time for mocking. Not when his friend so obviously needed him. “Enjolras, please. Come on out. We can talk. Or not talk. Just...” He sighed. He didn’t even know what to do about this. This wasn’t his thing. Jehan was better with feelings. Joly, even. And Courf or Ferre, they were the ones Enjolras would be more likely to confide in. But he was the one who was standing there and he was the one who needed to reach out. “What do you need?”

That seemed a good answer. Let Enjolras come to him. But the muffled response from under the covers was a pitiful, “Go away, Taire. I don’t need anything.” That was less than helpful.

Sighing, he left the room, keeping the door open. Just in case Enjolras changed his mind. He began wandering the flat. There were obvious reminders of Eponine everywhere. He couldn’t help the bittersweet feeling. Ecstatic that she was no longer an obstacle, but heartbroken by the pain he’d heard in his friend’s voice. One of her jumpers was sitting, draped over the desk chair. Had she left it that way or had Enjolras been attempting to work with it there? A DVD that was clearly hers was on the television. A framed photograph of the (admittedly attractive) couple was still on the bar leading into the kitchen.

Well, no wonder he’d finally snapped.

Grantaire made his way into the kitchen. A couple of dirty dishes sat in the sink and, to distract himself, he washed them and put them away. Though he was the opposite of a neatfreak, he did tend to clean when he needed an ‘out’. It helped him focus on other things. Like how much he just wanted to go into a twenty minute rant about how Eponine had been holding him back anyway. Mostly because it wasn’t true. More often, he’d been the one holding Enjolras back.

How long had it been since his friend had eaten? Probably a while. Enjolras barely touched food when he was stressed. And Grantaire was fairly certain this counted as stress. He dropped two pieces of bread in the toaster and put a kettle on for tea. The actions kept him from thinking. Kept him from wondering if there was any chance for him now that Eponine was out of the picture. What if Enjolras had no interest in men at all? They’d never really discussed it. Shaking himself out, he prepared the tea how his friend preferred. Surprising amounts of sugar for such a solid and intense man. He also spread a liberal amount of butter on the toast. The real sort, not the fake spread kind. If he was eating as little as Grantaire thought, the extra calories wouldn’t hurt him any.

Carefully balancing the plate with the toast and the mug of tea, he made his way back into the bedroom. “Come on, Enj,” he urged, setting both items on the nightstand. “I’ve got you a bit of breakfast.” Never mind that it was three in the afternoon. 

“Not hungry,” came the muffled reply.

Hesitantly, Grantaire took a seat on the edge of the bed. “I know,” he reminded him. “I know it hurts. It’s a bitch, is what it is. But you can’t let yourself get sick over this. You’re worth far more than that.” 

For a moment there was no reply and then, surprisingly, the covers came down just a little so just Enjolras’ face was showing. Those usually intense blue eyes looked pale and sad. And bloodshot. Their brave leader had been crying. And Grantaire found himself uncomfortably aware of how human Enjolras actually was. “I’m really not hungry,” he said quietly, inching out of his cocoon. “Haven’t been in a while.” 

Not in the last four days, anyway, Grantaire would wager. “Look,” he began, sounding more blunt than he’d intended, “you don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve to just...fade away on me.” He hadn’t meant to place any blame. To make it sound like Enjolras was intentionally doing these things to hurt him. It had come out that way, and he felt badly about it but it wasn’t like he could take it back. So he simply got to his feet and went to the window, opening the blinds just a bit.

“I don’t deserve a lot of things,” Enjolras muttered, but to Grantaire’s surprise, he was edging himself into a sitting position. He took a piece of the toast, tearing it into small pieces. Grantaire tried not to watch him, certain he’d feel scrutinized. But he couldn’t help the tiny feeling of victory at what he was seeing.

***

“Do you need me to call her?” Grantaire asked, eyeing Enjolras warily. He was definitely out of the cocooning in his room until the pain faded phase. No, the beer in his hand was proof he was now willingly consuming calories. And the boisterous attitude that was edging on obnoxious was definitely a far cry from the man who’d barely been able to say a full sentence. Grantaire had no business judging anyone else’s drinking habits, but Enjolras definitely wasn’t himself that night.

He _really_ hoped this was just another stupid phase in the grieving process. 

Enjolras rolled his eyes in annoyance. “I am perfectly capable of calling my _ex_ -girlfriend and telling her to come get her shit out of my flat, Grantaire,” he said defiantly.

Combeferre met Grantaire’s eyes across the table and shrugged subtly. “Course you can. I think maybe Grantaire just thought you’d rather not see her, is all. It might be easier if one of us did it.”

Though he was surprised for the backup, Grantaire nodded. “That’s all it was. I mean, why would you want to see her again?”

Enjolras seemed to be thinking this over. He’d already finished one pitcher of beer and was starting on a second. Frankly, they all knew if he picked up the phone and spoke to Eponine right then, it couldn’t possibly go well. “I don’t ever want to see her again,” he nearly spat, bitterly. “She’s such a bitch.”

Well. It was better than sobbing over her? Maybe? Grantaire hesitated, meeting Courf’s eyes first, and then Ferre’s. “Look,” he finally said insistently, “why don’t you and I pack up all of her things tomorrow. Then I’ll get it to her so you don’t have to. And she won’t need to even come near your flat. Fair?”

Mostly he had liked Eponine. Even if she was living the life Grantaire had always dreamed of. But right now, he was angry. She was tearing this man apart. And no one deserved that, but least of all a man who put so much of himself on the line for others. Still, things would likely go so much better if he were the one to see her. And far more than drunk Enjolras calling her. 

And there may have been a part of him, a very large though guilty and selfish part, that didn’t want his drunken friend calling his ex because he was terrified he’d beg to get her back and she’d go. Or at the very least some drunken hookup, and he didn’t think he’d really be okay with that, either. And when he sobered up, neither would Enjolras.

***

“You’re moving?”

Grantaire stood in the center of the parlor, watching as Enjolras packed his bookshelf. It took several boxes, since so many of those books were ridiculously heavy. Secretly, Grantaire wondered how many of them he’d actually read. Maybe the law student was just keeping them there for show. Then again, it was Enjolras. Anything was possible.

Briefly looking up from the shelf, Enjolras shrugged. “My lease was up. Rather than sign a new one, I chose to move out. It isn’t that complicated.” 

But there was something in his voice. Something Grantaire couldn’t quite grasp. An emotion he wasn’t entirely familiar with, particularly from this man. Before Eponine, he hadn’t even been known to deal with emotions well. Now he seemed to be trying to retreat to that man all over again.

“But why?” Okay, so he’d just explained why. That didn’t mean Grantaire couldn’t wonder. There was another reason, he knew it.

To Enjolras’ credit, he apparently knew Grantaire knew it. Sighing, he leaned back on his heels, looking up at his darker haired friend. “There’s too much of her here, Grantaire. The entire place is filled with memories of her and I can’t do this anymore. My lease is up, now’s a good time to cut ties and leave her behind.”

It sounded so depressing. Like he was letting go of a piece of his life because of some stupid girl with lousy taste in men. Or so Grantaire personally felt. “But you can’t! You can’t just leave your home because of a breakup.”

Enjolras actually smiled, which was better than the fits of anger or the near crying. “Taire, I’m moving two apartment buildings over. It isn’t the end of the world.”

That didn’t stop Grantaire from being angry. From being worried. Packing up his life and moving just to escape someone’s memory sounded horrifying.

***

“Why didn’t she love me?”

His voice sounded heartbroken, the same as it had that first week after they’d broken up. The broken man who had hidden away from the world before Grantaire had so gently pulled him back out. And it tore Grantaire apart. 

To be honest, he had no idea what to say. Why _wouldn’t_ she want Enjolras? He was amazing. Okay, he could be a little tempermental. He had his angry fits, his passionate rages. But they were rarely taken out on the people he actually cared about and rather on the world in front of him. Yes, he was a bit of a workaholic. But only because so many things meant so much to him. Obviously, the man had flaws. Grantaire wasn’t foolish enough to believe he was flawless, no matter how blinded Joly might say he was. Yet there were so many good things he had to offer.

So he reached over, placing a hand over his friend’s knee. The party continued on inside, but he liked the porch on the small house Enjolras had found. It was cozy and the night was cool and and breezy and he liked being away from the crowds sometimes. Especially when it found him the man he loved so much and allowed him a brief time spent with him alone. Even if Enjolras was outside feeling miserable, apparently.

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I have no idea why anyone wouldn’t. You’re worth so much more than this.” 

Enjolras scoffed, but he looked sideways at Grantaire. “You’re being way too nice. Are you feeling okay?”

Smirking slightly, Grantaire shrugged his shoulders. “I can be nice. Sometimes. When it’s an important cause. And reminding you that you’re...brilliant is an important cause.” He’d almost said perfect. Because even with his flaws, he seemed perfect to him. Flaws could be a part of someone’s perfection, right? 

Maybe not.

Heaving a sigh, Enjolras leaned forward on the steps, dropping his elbows to his knees. “If I were brilliant, she’d be here tonight. I did something wrong. I had to.”

“Not necessarily,” Grantaire began simply, then paused. He hesitated, wondering how much to say. “Some people... They’re just not meant to be together, Apollo. It isn’t that either of them did anything wrong. It’s more that they don’t get on well long term. You enjoyed the time you had together. But now you need to move on. To let...” He shouldn’t say it. No, it would be wrong, it would come out weird. “To let someone else have a chance to love you. The way you deserve. She was a fool to let you go.” Or it could come spilling out regardless of what he wanted.

The words hung between them and Grantaire was almost sure he’d said the wrong thing. When Enjolras finally did speak again, Grantaire held his breath, determined he’d be called out for sounding like an idiot. Instead, he nearly fell off the step. “If...” Enjolras began slowly. “If I were to let someone in... It might be a while. Because I’m really just...not ready. I wouldn’t be any good to anyone right now. But um. If I did...want to, I mean... Do you think the person would be willing to wait? 

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t actually be happening. He was _not_ this close to spilling his feelings. Not now, not when the man he loved so ridiculously much was so vulnerable. But he found himself softly agreeing. “Yes, Enjolras,” he said quietly. “Yes, I think they would. I think... Maybe someone who really cared for you, who wanted you to love them, I think they’d hold on as long as they knew there was hope.” Rhetorical statement. That’s all it was. Truthfully. 

Except there was a lingering air between them that told him they both knew it was less than rhetorical. And the thought was almost dizzying. More so when Enjolras actually smiled. “We should go in,” he said simply. “It is my party, after all. It probably looks ridiculous that I’m not in there.”

Grantaire gave a little grin. “Just tell them I had a panic attack and you dragged me out for fresh air. In fact, I’m going to stay a little longer.” He still needed time to process what his friend had just said.

***

“Want to go for a walk?”

Grantaire couldn’t hide his surprise at his friend’s statement. There’d been rainstorms off and on all day and he wanted to go out walking? The answer, however, was going to be yes, regardless. They’d both been inside for hours studying. They were getting stir crazy. The backspacing of Enjolras’ laptop was getting irritating and Grantaire had taken to doodling cartoon figures of his friends in the margins of his notebooks. 

And it would get him quality time with Enjolras. 

They skipped umbrellas, locked their things in a locker, and simply took off walking. The campus was actually quite nice on a sunny day but on a rainy day... Grantaire ached for paint. Even colored pencils would have been welcomed. The way the rain drops still clung for life on the leaves and the way the water caught the light of the peeking sun and the vibrant green everything turned when it was wet. 

And the man beside him, as beautiful as ever. His face was more relaxed than it had been all day. The walk had been a good idea. Just seeing Enjolras’ jaw unclenched and his shoulders loose made the damp walk worth it. 

“It’s started sprinkling again.” he pointed out needlessly. Grinning, he reached over, flicking a strand of Enjolras’ hair. “Your hair says so.”

Rolling his eyes, the blond shrugged. “I give up. It’s never doing anything I ask it to so if it wants to have a wild party on my head and not invite me, so be it. Besides,” he added, pausing to ruffle Grantaire’s hair. “You’re not faring much better here.” 

The moment lingered between them. That had happened. And Grantaire knew he needed to write it off as a friendly gesture. Just two teasing friends trying to escape the pressure of finals week. But he didn’t want to. He reached out, gently touching Enjolras’ cheek. “It’s still attractive, though,” he said softly. “Even in the rain.” It was the first time he’d actually admitted out loud that his friend was good looking. Though attractive was a minor word when the proper way to convey his feelings would be ‘gorgeous’.

Almost absently, Enjolras nuzzled into the hand at his face. He looked like a cat seeking attention. Though Grantaire was also afraid that, like a cat, if Enjolras suddenly tired of the exchange, he’d bite. He reached up, covering Grantaire’s hand with his own. As if acting on instinct, following only his base needs, he curled his fingers through Grantaire’s, turned his head, and kissed the brunette’s palm lightly. “Is it?” he asked softly, and Grantaire was so mesmerized with what was happening that he’d forgotten what he was even talking about. 

“Yeah,” Grantaire admitted with a sheepish grin. “Pretty much every part of you is attractive.”

Enjolras hesitated. He looked every bit the nervous school boy and it made Grantaire’s smile just that much more genuine. How did he even look perfect being terrified? “Grantaire?”

”Yeah?” This time a question.

“I think I’m ready to let someone in. If he still wants to.” 

For a moment, his heart stopped and he forgot to breathe. It felt like a lifetime of dreams actually coming true. No way. No way was it possible and no way was it happening to him. But the look on Enjolras’ face was so hopeful and earnest. He meant it. He wanted this. And Grantaire was helpless to stop it from happening. “He does,” he said, before leaning in to gently kiss the man he’d had feelings for way too long. Murmuring against his partner’s mouth, he just said, “he absolutely still wants to.”

***

”Isn’t that...?”

Before he could finish his sentence, the girl came clearer into his sight and Grantaire had to swallow a groan. Eponine’s long dark hair was blowing lazily in the breeze and her big dark eyes were visible even from as far away as they were. “We could avoid her?” he said, ready to use the hand entwined with Enjolras’ to pull him along. 

To his surprise, though, his boyfriend stood his ground. “We’re going to lunch,” he said, as if reminding Grantaire. As if there wasn’t a petite brunette obstacle in their way. 

Grantaire felt dread building in his stomach as they got closer and closer. When they finally were in front of her, he expected Enjolras to ignore the girl. To pull him along, nose in the air, eyes half closed. He thought he’d pretend Eponine didn’t exist. What he didn’t expect was a polite, “Hi, ‘Ponine.”

Eponine seemed to be looking her ex-boyfriend over and Grantaire was pleased to say she should be jealous by what she saw. Enjolras looked good. Really good. He was dressed in his usual annoyingly preppy clothing, but the slacks were tailored to fit him and he looked fantastic. Most of all, he looked healthy. The weight he’d lost after they’d first broken up was back on and mostly muscle, as apparently running had become his new way of dealing with losing her. His eyes were bright and clear and Grantaire smugly thought that might have had something to do with with the way he’d been woken up that morning. It had been six months since they’d split up. He’d been with Grantaire for three. And he certainly didn’t look like a man in mourning. 

“Hi,” she finally said, clearly thrown off. Especially when her eyes drifted down to their joined hands. “When did this happen?”

Grantaire was ready to stutter out some excuse, even to pull away. But to his surprise, Enjolras lifted their joined hands in order to kiss his boyfriend’s knuckles. “A few months ago. Finally acted on something we’d been missing out on, I guess. How are you?”

Dark eyes widening, Eponine seemed to pause to get her thoughts together. Finally, she stammered, “Good. Really good.” The more she talked, the more at ease she seemed to become. “I got the approval for that book for my senior project.”

It had obviously been something they’d discussed together. Before she’d torn his heart out. But Enjolras didn’t seem bitter about it. He smiled genuinely. “That’s fantastic.” He turned to Grantaire with an eager grin. “She’s going to write a book. She’s going through the city with sack lunches, giving the homeless meals and talking to them while they eat. She’ll write their stories and turn it into a non-fiction book.” Looking back at Eponine, he gave an encouraging smile. “If you need any help, please let me know. It’s a worthy cause.”

He missed the death glare Grantaire was shooting him. But his hand was still firmly wrapped in Enjolras’ so maybe hope wasn’t entirely lost. “I will,” Eponine replied, and Grantaire was suddenly reminded of how sweet she used to be. Nothing like the heart breaking hussy he’d forced her into being all this time. “I could use some help putting the lunch bags together?” 

”Sounds perfect. Speaking of lunch, we were on our way there. Call me when you set up a time, okay? I’ll meet you.” 

The small young woman walked away easily, but Grantaire couldn’t quite make himself be that carefree. “You’re going to see her? You’re going to _help_ her?”

Enjolras’ eyes looked wounded at Grantaire’s bitter tone. “I... I was? I won’t if you really don’t want me to. But...you know the homeless are my goal. That’s who most of this is for.” ‘This’ was the mound of schoolwork in his bag. 

“But with her?”

And, finally, Enjolras got it. And he smiled. He turned, encircling Grantaire in his arms. “Six months ago, I couldn’t have even looked her in the eyes. Now I’m considering helping her with a project. And do you know why?”

Though he knew where this was going and that he was basically being a jealous child, Grantaire ducked his head and grinned. “Because you really, really love homeless people?”

”No,” was the simple answer. “Because I really, really love you.” And he kissed him, and Eponine was long forgotten.


End file.
